


Prelude to Pain

by orphan_account



Series: Zoldyck Chronicles [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Child Abuse, Dark, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Ideologically Sensitive, M/M, Multi, Sexual Abuse, Slavery, and by eventual I mean he's going to go through years of pain before he even meets Gon, probably hella ooc, this is going to be terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having messed up for the last time, Killua has finally earned his father's wrath, and no amount of talking down from his grandfather is going to change Silva's mind this time.  His punishment?  Slavery.  Sold off by his own father, just like that, at the ripe age of twelve without so much as a second thought.</p><p>Just when Killua thinks he's finally hit rock bottom, things only get far worse.  Far, far worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistake and Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this is a vent fic above all else, because I myself have gone through a lot of abuse as a child and as an adult, and this is my way of staying sane. Or at least attempting to do so.
> 
> I've already mentioned that this is going to be super dark and there will be violence, graphic depictions of abuse, rape, etc., and a lot of this will be done to a minor. If any of that offends you or makes you uncomfortable, you may not want to read this. Ever.

It all started with one little mistake.  Perplexing in its simplicity, but nonetheless an undeniable shortcoming that could neither be excused, nor made up for.  It had all happened so fast, despite the fact that it now played over and over in his mind, like a track on repeat that tormented him as he cried into his pillow.

Crying.  Something not long ago he would have thought he was incapable of doing.  Something that he’d been taught was best done by the weak, which he wasn’t allowed to be.  This, and many more rules to live by were mercilessly pounded into his mind until he could take it no more and he was finally allowed an uneasy sleep fraught with nightmares and fitful tossing and turning before he’d be forced to awaken before the sun even rose so that he could do it all over.

He was told it was for his own good.  That it would make him strong.  He didn’t know whether those words were true or not, but he’d never had the nerve to protest against them.  He’d hear horror stories told in whispers among the servants when they thought the Zoldycks weren’t listening; stories of how the Zoldyck family was ruthless even to their own, should there be what they deemed as insubordination or insolence.

And so, though one of their own he was, his father and eldest brother had made it perfectly clear the responsibilities he bore as Silva’s son, the chosen heir.  He’d learned at the youngest of ages that ‘heir’ did not equate to ‘special treatment’.  No, rather than special treatment, he was judged even more harshly than any other member of the family-- and whenever he did not meet his family expectations, he could expect severe lashings that would leave him thoroughly weak and dizzy from the pain and blood loss.  He’d then be sent off to his bedroom where he’d spend the following week attempting to nurse his wounds to the best of his ability, often not being able to stave off infection, all the while being expected to ‘reflect on his actions’.

It needn’t be said that he feared his family.  He feared them no small amount, at that.  It was a deep, instilled fear that had served him well for many years.

… But not today.

It had been a long time coming, but anyone would want to make excuses for why it happened in his situation, he was sure.  

_If I had only done this differently..._

_If only I had remembered to do that._

_What if I hadn’t?_

_What if I had?_

The questions and excuses, the doubting of oneself was like a growing poison in one’s mind, and slowly but surely if left to his own devices he’d go mad.  Some part of him perhaps wished that he had.  At least then he wouldn’t be forced to remain awake and aware of the world around him, of the vicious cruelty that was all he’d ever known and ever would know if his family had a say in the matter.  And they did.  A very large say.  Whereas Killua had none.

That was just how the story goes, after all.

* * *

_"Father has requested your presence."_

_Killua looked up at Illumi, who'd just entered his room at such an opportune time that he got a full frontal of Killua in the nude.  Had this been the first time, the young Zoldyck may have had the prudence to act embarrassed.  Given that it wasn't the first time, he merely sighed, turning away from his eldest brother._

_"I'm starting to get the feeling that none of you know what knocking is," he muttered, rifling through his dresser for a pair of underwear._

_"There is no reason for us to knock before entering.  An assassin is not allowed that luxury."_

_He sniffed at a pair that looked like it might be clean, but soon wrinkled his nose in disgust before he tossed it over his shoulder.  A small part of him hoped it hit Illumi.  The next pair he grabbed was better, and he quickly pulled them on._

_"Yeah?  Well, maybe I don't want to be an assassin.  Have you ever thought about that?" he said conversationally, frowning after he'd tugged on a clean pair of pants only to find he was out of clean shirts.  Not that it was his fault, of course.  His mother didn't do his laundry, and everyone kept him so busy that he hardly had the time to do his own.  Thus, this was the result.  He was coming to loathe the familiar sensation of dirty clothes with the stench of last week's blood and sweat on his skin._

_"An assassin is not--"_

_"Allowed the luxury of choice, I should be grateful of what I've got, blah, blah, blah," Killua interrupted with a half-lidded stare into his brother's soulless eyes, "you've told me that hundreds of times.  I know already.  Doesn't mean I like it."_

_The way those wide, black eyes remained as wide as ever, constantly watching him without blinking even once was unnerving as always.  Killua shuddered as he looked away.  He knew better than to get in a staring contest with his brother.  His brother took such behavior as a direct challenge to his authority, and given that beast-like strength of his that far surpassed Killua's own, his keen senses and ingenuity, all along with that cold precision and ruthlessness he was infamous for, Killua would never in his wildest dreams attempt to challenge him.  Illumi was a psychopath among psychopaths.  Of that, he was most certain._

_But then, that was also exactly the reason that the conversation Killua was having with him was utterly pointless.  Even though Illumi was, to some extent, loyal to his family (or at least his mother, and sometimes his father), beneath all that the only person Illumi truly cared about was himself.  He'd throw his mother and father to the wolves quicker than Killua would if it meant he'd gain something from it.  He'd even sooner do the very same to Killua himself._

_There was no point in trying to convince him of something or gain his pity.  It was a fruitless effort that would leave Killua feeling emptier than he'd felt before he tried._

_"Father does not like to be kept waiting," Illumi said in that same monotonous voice, as if he was talking about something boring, like the weather._

_"Fine, let him know I'm on my way," Killua grumbled, trying his damnedest not to sound too snippy._

_"You will come now," Illumi proceeded to walk into Killua's bedroom._

_The boy started to panic, "Wait, but I haven't found a shirt ye--"_

_"Now."_

_There was a vice-like grip around his shoulder as he was jerked and dragged right out of his bedroom.  He stumbled clumsily over his own feet, trying to regain his balance at the fast pace he was being pulled at._

_Killua struggled to get loose of the grip, "Can you at least let go of me?  I can walk on my own."_

_"No."_

_"Oh, come on!  Do you think I'm gonna run off or something?"_

_"Wouldn't be the first time."_

_"So I've run off a time or five... I've learned my lesson, honest," Killua said, attempting to crack a smile and failing miserably, then wincing as the fingers around his arm tightened considerably.  Illumi's sharp fingernails dug into his skin.  That was going to leave a mark._

_"Little brother.  You are testing my patience."_

_Killua thought it best to quit trying to bargain with his psychopath of an older brother by that point.  He wasn't entirely sure that murdering his own brother was currently beneath him.  Or at least eviscerating.  There was always eviscerating.  And if he was unlucky, he'd survive that._

_Walking down the hallway that led to his father's room was much like walking to the gallows, only with twice as much tension and minus the merciful release of a reasonably quick death.  Killua once heard that some people died with a boner at the gallows.  Or ejaculated right before they died, even.  The way he saw it, **they** had it easy._

_Then, all too soon, that large doorway was looming over him, like the Grim Reaper's scythe about to split his neck and sever his head from his body._

_Illumi opened the door, thrusting Killua inside by his arm before the boy even had the chance to register the door was no longer closed, and by the time he'd realized that, the door was slamming shut behind him.  The boy peered meekly up at his father, lounging regally upon his couch as if it were a throne.  When he caught that menacing gaze, a dark glare that knit thick brows together in a scowl, and drew his lips into a tight line... Killua knew he was in for it._

_Getting in trouble was not an uncommon thing for Killua, but never in his twelve years of living had he seen his father look so... so... **livid**._

_"Son."_

_He quivered at that rumbling tone, so filled with anger that it could shake the room, and yet so calm and quiet.  That was the scariest thing; how even though his father was so visibly mad, he still kept his cool, still didn't shout.  He expressed his anger in the same way he killed:  silent, but deadly.  Now all of that was directed at Killua._

_He did not speak.  Even though he'd been directly addressed, he knew his father did not expect nor want him to speak.  He remained as quiet as he could, not even breathing during the suffocating long pause before Silva eventually spoke._

_"No words can describe how disappointed I am," he said, causing the boy to flinch, but he wasn't done yet, "you have done this for the last time, son.  I'll not have it any longer.  Tell me, do you even know what you've done?  Or have you failed even in that?"_

_A question directed at him.  He was expected to answer. "No, sir."_

_"No... sir..." Silva repeated him, as if to emphasize the statement, then pausing once more.  He sighed, placing a hand to his forehead, "You're meaning to tell me you have absolutely no idea what you've done wrong?"_

_"No, sir."_

_His muscular brute of a father then settled his feet on the floor and stood to his full height of six feet and six inches, towering over Killua.  The young assassin was now visibly shaking.  Well, visibly to a normal person at least; he had no doubts that his father had clearly seen it from the moment he'd been thrown into the room._

_"Three days ago, you went to school as you normally do, correct?" the man was walking around him in a slow, predatory walk, circling him like a lion would a gazelle._

_"Yes, sir."_

_"And after school, tell me what it was you did, son."_

_He had to rack his brain for this particular fact before answering, "I-I br... brought home a friend, sir...?"_

_"Yes.  You brought home a friend," Silva then pivoted on his foot, prowling over to wear his hunting dog lay to pet him briefly.  He didn't look back at Killua, "and what is it this friend did here?"_

_"We only played for a little while," Killua said frantically, "that's honestly all we did, and then she had to go home.  She didn't do anything wrong!"_

_Silva laughed.  It was a cold, hollow laugh.  One that gave no impression of happiness._

_He was in the corner now, holding something, but there were too many shadows for Killua to make out what it was, "That's where you're wrong, Killua.  We've taught you so much better than this.  You should have known," he dropped the object onto the floor, making a strangely soft thud sound accompanied with a sharp crack.  He nudged the object forward with his foot, "You should have known...  Your brother Illumi found her in one of the side wings, trying to steal some of the valuables.  She probably didn't account for the fact they'd be too heavy for her to carry very far, and I'm sure she also didn't expect to get caught.  Illumi fixed her little stealing problem, but I can't say fixing you will be as easy."_

_When the strangely soft something hit his knee and stopped rolling, Killua felt a shiver run down his spine.  He tore his eyes away from his father to slowly look down into the dead eyes of his friend._

_Rather, what was left of his friend.  Just enough that he'd be able to recognize who it was.  The expression on the face was frozen in one of shock.  She'd most likely not even known she was dying when it happened.  He should have felt worse about her dying, but somehow he felt nothing at all.  He was almost jealous.  She hadn't lived to experience his father's wrath.  She'd even been granted a quick, most likely painless death._

_"You are a failure as my heir," the words were like the dull blade of a knife cutting deep into Killua's chest.  He'd never wanted to be Silva's heir, but he didn't like being called a failure either.  He didn't like being looked at by his own father as if he was less than worthless._ _"Leave.  Get out of my sight, and enjoy the rest of your day on this estate.  It will be your last."_

* * *

 

His grandfather checked up on him shortly after he left his father's room.  Apparently, the old man had tried to reason with Silva, and he told Killua as much, but it had been to no avail.  It wasn't uncommon for Zeno to bail him out of punishments or at least get his father to give less severe punishments, but this had truly been the last time he'd ever make a mistake.  Silva had made his decision, and it was final.

So even with his grandfather trying to cheer him up, give him chocolate, or otherwise bond with him some way somehow, Killua couldn't bring himself to be happy.  He knew that this was only temporary bliss.  Soon, his father would come to a decision and pass his ultimate judgement on Killua.  Then only God knew where he'd be.

* * *

 

"I've decided on your punishment."

Killua waited in silence for Silva to tell him just what this punishment would be.  He prayed to whatever gods were out there that maybe his death would be swift.

"A friend of mine is in need of a new slave, and he's willing to pay a fine price.  He'll be here to pick you up tomorrow at noon."

Killua swore he could pinpoint the exact moment his heart fell down, down through his stomach and shattered all over the floor.


	2. A New Way To Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got excited and got a little ahead of myself. Made this chapter a lot longer than the last. There is a rape scene in this. I don't get extremely descriptive with it since I do it entirely from Killua's perspective, but it's still fairly descriptive. Also some mentions of violence, and descriptions of violence.
> 
> This chapter is mainly just Killua getting settled in to his new 'home'.

Silva's friend was a brutish man, much like Silva was. The only difference was that he was no assassin, he was much shorter, and Killua's father had no scent (something Killua chalked up to the whole assassin career). In sharp contrast, this man stank to high heavens of some unholy combination of old sweat and booze.

Killua didn't know how to feel about the fact that despite having already forked over the money to Silva for Killua (and signing some questionable documents they deemed a contract), the man was still lingering on the Zoldyck estate, and by extension so was Killua. He was drinking and cracking jokes as he spoke to Silva for what felt like hours, and never before had Killua seen his father with a smile on his face. This truly made Killua jealous, that whoever this man was,  _he_ could have what Killua didn't, and he wasn't even  _related_ to Silva.

Somewhere deep down, it was pointless to be jealous over something so trivial, but he was. He knew that his father wasn't considered a good man to many people, but he was his father. Even now, while he still stood around in his own home… not his home anymore… completely disowned by his father. He couldn't deny that small part of him within that was still his father's son, eager to please him, to gain his praise if only for a little while.

Silva  _never_ smiled at Killua like that. Killua had been under the impression that Silva was physically incapable of smiling.

The young ex-assassin silently seethed from his spot out of the way from the two men's fun. He did not like this new man.

* * *

He lay sprawled out on a bed, in a daze. How he'd gotten there, he couldn't quite recall. All he knew was that one moment, he'd been seething in his father's room, watching the two men drinking and being merry, and the next he was being offered something. He couldn't recall what, but it had made his head feel fuzzy, and somehow he'd ended up here on this bed, trying to get his wits about him.

He blinked slowly, head lolling as his gaze trailed around the room, until he happened to look up and see a large body over his own.

"Wh… wh..aaa…?" he tried to say something, but his words weren't coming out properly. He couldn't feel his tongue. It was like there was a large piece of cotton sitting in his mouth. He tried again, "... whe..re…?"

The face of the man above him was blurring in and out of focus, never quite becoming clear enough for him to make out who it was. There were voices talking, coming from all around him. Even so, it sounded like only two voices. They were strange sounding, as if they were far away and he was hearing them from underwater.

The next thing he knew, there was pain. Just pain. Lots and lots of pain, as if he was being split entirely in two from the bottom up, and it burned.

It burned.

_It burned._

Before he knew it, his throat was burning too, and he didn't know why. His eyes were burning. Everything burned.

There was a loud, foreign sound hurting his ears. A sort of screeching.

Then he realized with a start…  _Oh… I'm screaming. That's me._

The world was coming into focus now, with startling clarity. Suddenly, he could feel everything, see everything, hear everything. That somehow brought him no peace of mind as he thought it would.

He panted, his breathing labored from the exertion, tears streaming down his cheeks to soak into the sheets of the bed. He was screaming, even though he felt like he was ripping a hole inside his esophagus to do so, "Take it out! P-please… take it out!"

It was then that he realized he had the strength to push this man off, if he really wanted to. All he'd have to do was push.

So it was with that thought in mind that he lifted two shaking hands and placed them fully on the man's chest and started to push him away… but froze when a stern voice sounded from somewhere nearby.

"Stop."

He turned his head, looking to Silva. His father. His father could help. He was mad, but surely even he wouldn't think this was okay. His father could stop him!

"Father," he tried to keep his voice steady, but feared that it came out more as a whimper, "father, please stop him! Please, it hurts!"

Those piercing, cold blue eyes continued to stare at him. There was no guilt. There was no pity. Only disgust and contempt. Killua's frantic begging died in his throat, forming a lump that stole his breath away.

"You are no son of mine."

Killua had thought being called a failure had been like a dull knife blade in his chest, but this was different. The cold statement spoken by Silva was like frostbite setting in all over his body. Cold, yet burning, eating away at him from the inside out.

He no longer had the energy to protest. His voice was gone.

That small part of him that wanted to fight back against his owner, now rapist, still spoke its mind at the back of his head, reminding him that he could still easily push the man off. But how could he? Why would he?

It wasn't as if it would do him any good…

* * *

Any delusions Killua had had about his father giving a damn about him had all but evaporated. He'd thought they'd already done so the moment his father told him he was selling him away as a slave, but he'd been proven wrong when he begged his father to stop the dastardly deed that was done upon his tiny prepubescent body last night.

He was without a doubt disowned by his father.

He'd had the fleeting idea to run away, seeing as he was no longer expected to represent the Zoldyck family. This idea had been quashed the moment he'd overheard his father promising his new owner that they'd be sending someone to regularly check up on how his new slave was doing.

In other words, someone would be coming to make sure he wasn't defying his new owner. Someone would be coming to make sure he doesn't run away.

Even though he was no longer part of the family, he still wasn't free from their clutches.

Even with all the strength he'd accumulated in his twelve years, even with his sharp mind, and all the skills he'd been taught, there was no way he could escape.

He  _could_ run. But they'd find him. They'd sniff him out and drag him back, give him a good lashing before putting him back to work.

There was no escape.

* * *

Killua didn't even know his owner's name. Nor was he given the luxury of knowing. He was told to call him Master.

Well.  _Master's_ home was very large. Much more modest than the Zoldyck estate, but large nonetheless.

There were many rooms he didn't even use in his home. Most of them were bedrooms, in fact.

Killua half-expected to be put up in one of said bedrooms, but instead was shocked to find that he'd instead be staying in a closet. One that happened to be in Master's bedroom.

He watched as the man threw a dusty old potato sack on the floor, which if he was not mistaken, was meant to be his new bed. A potato sack.

It had holes in it. It was falling apart at the seams, and even if it hadn't been, it wouldn't have kept the cold out to begin with. Killua was pretty sure he'd just seen a beetle crawl out and scuttle off into a hole in the floorboards.

Master then turned to him, "You'll sleep here tonight. You start working tomorrow morning. One of the maids will show you what will be expected of you."

Killua didn't even deign to respond to that. He walked to the sack on the floor, sitting down in a daze. He stared off into space, somewhere around where Master's knees were until the man turned and walked away, shutting the closet door behind himself.

At least the closet was pleasantly dark.

* * *

Master had maids. The Zoldyck estate too had maids, so Killua was fully aware of the purpose of maids. As far as he was concerned, their purpose was essentially the same as a slave (which begged the question of why he was needed).

He'd asked one maid that very question, the one teaching him 'what was expected of him', and she'd informed him they actually got paid. Not to mention, they apparently had some sort of rights that basically stated Master could not sexually assault or otherwise attack them. Killua supposed he should appreciate the honesty, if nothing else.

Most of the maids were kind to him. Some even fawned over him, and would go on about how cute he was. This was usually a regular occurrence when Master wasn't looking. He'd yell at them to quit slacking off and threaten to cut their pay if he caught them in the act.

He found out very quickly that the way Master dealt with the maids and the way he dealt with Killua was extremely different.

Where a maid would be told to do something over, Killua would get screamed at. Where a maid would get a scolding, Killua would get a backhand across the face. Where a maid would be yelled at, Killua got several beatings.

Sometimes, Master would even punish him for something a maid had done. In front of said maid.

In truth, he hadn't even realized how cruel Master was at first. It wasn't very unlike his own family's behavior after all, and though he didn't like the treatment, he'd come to see it as something to be expected, a normal occurrence. It wasn't until two maids had begun talking to him in hushed tones about his treatment, and about how they thought it was wrong, that it fully hit him that  _most_ people  _weren't_ treated like that.

He'd always seen his treatment as cruel, but never before had it occurred to him that it could possibly be  _wrong_.

That very word sat like sour food in his stomach. Wrong. What Master was doing was wrong.

Shortly after those two maids had confronted him about Master's treatment toward him, he realized they never showed up for work anymore. He wasn't sure when they disappeared, but over the days they were oddly absent, until eventually it made him wonder.

Upon asking around about it, he found that everyone was avoiding him like the plague. His attempts to gather information had went on for so long that finally the head maid came to him and informed him that the two women had been fired.

Ever since then, none of the maids spoke to him unless they were ordered to do so.

* * *

Sometimes, Killua would wonder to himself whether he'd have been happier had he not known that what was happening to him was wrong. Sure, he hadn't exactly been happy per se, but he'd been unaware that he was missing out on anything, and he'd come to accept the way he lived.

Now however, he wished he could experience that life. He wished he could see what it was like to be in a normal family that didn't beat him, to eat three square meals a day, to sleep in an actual bed. He wanted to be able to experience the warm bath some maids claimed would wash away all one's aches and pains, rather than the cold bucket of water Killua was given once a week to wash away the built-up grime.

He wondered what it would be like to have all that. He wondered what it would be like to be able to have chocolate every day. He'd had chocolate before, but only on highly rare occasions when his grandfather would sneak it to him.

Despite himself, Killua was lonely. He was surrounded by people, and yet he was all alone. He was ostracized by the maids, now an unapproachable being. No one wanted to risk losing their job over talking to little old Killua.

On nights when Master had a particularly stressful work day, he'd take out his pent-up frustrations, both physically and sexually, and the maids would turn a blind eye. They'd look away with shame on their faces, and act as if they had no idea it was happening.

In the end, Killua had no one. He could trust no one. He could depend on no one. He was told he had only himself to blame, and truly he believed it. The boy hadn't been raised to believe otherwise.

* * *

A month after Killua had been working for Master, he got his first visit from the family. They sent Illumi to check up on him.

He'd been minding his own business, doing his allotted chores as usual when the doorbell rang. He dropped the broom he'd been sweeping with, tripping over his own feet when he rushed to answer the door in a timely manner.

Seeing his older brother for the first time in a day and a month gave him cold feet and a heavy heart, though he couldn't place why. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, along with the countless words he wanted to say, and stepped aside in open invitation for Illumi to enter.

The moment he did so, Killua shut the door, hurrying back over the broom he'd abandoned in order to continue his task. Illumi's eyes were like daggers in his back, making him fumble more than usual.

"I trust you've been behaving, Kil," he spoke after an agonizingly long pause. Killua merely nodded, keeping all his focus on the dust bunnies below. It was quite a while later that he felt Illumi's eyes leave his backside and just barely heard the sound of him walking away.

He peeked cautiously over his shoulder, just to be sure. Illumi had disappeared into the next room.

Killua moved to a room in better earshot, under the guise of dusting and organizing said room.

They didn't seem to suspect him of eavesdropping. That, or they didn't give a damn.

"Hello, I'm here to check up on Kil."

That was his brother speaking. His hands stilled in their ministrations as his ears perked.

"Ah, you're Silva's boy. Illumi, was it?"

He flinched at the sound of his master speaking, but continued to listen in on what they were saying. He was curious about what was going on. Maybe he'd be able to catch a tidbit about what was going on outside of his master's mansion.

"Yes. Father told me to apologize to you, as he could not be here himself. He asked that I come in his place to make sure things are going smoothly here. Tell me, has he been behaving?"

"I don't know, what do  _you_ think?" Master's voice was dripping with sarcasm. Killua wasn't sure why he'd been hoping to hear good things about himself, but that wasn't what he got. Instead, he spoke nothing but foul things of Killua. As if the ex-assassin's ego needed the further plunge into whatever dark abyss it had sunk into. "Boy's a damn rotten slave. Always complaining, always whining, I tell you."

Killua had  _not_. Granted the first few days, he'd been a little disagreeable, and he still would whimper here and there when he was being taken in the bedroom, but aside from those small slips he was the quietest person in the mansion. He was feeling rather spiteful about what he knew to be blatant lies. Hell, Illumi was great at sniffing out liars. He should have known just as well.

And Master was going on, "I tell you what, I ought to return him to you. This is bullshit. He's not even that good at housework."

"Keep him, I insist. He'll learn his place in due time," Killua heard Illumi say. The way he was speaking with such an understanding tone, how polite he was trying to be with that man, for some reason bothered Killua. Illumi wasn't one to prostrate himself, but to Killua, that's almost what it sounded like he was doing right now.

"And why should I? What guarantee will you give me that he can learn his place?"

Unlike Illumi, Master was rude and obnoxious. Loud. He was nothing like Illumi. In fact, he was downright disrespectful. Not that Killua had the best of opinions about his former eldest brother, but the part of him that still felt his blood tie to Illumi was outraged that he'd treat Illumi in such a way.

"I am sorry for any of his bad behavior, I assure you, William," Illumi said, keeping that polite tone.

"You will address me as Mr. White," he replied tersely.

 _William White_ … was that his name then? A month and a day into his servitude, and Killua was only now learning  _Master's_  name. Such a plain name. So… unlike him. White was a pristine, pure color. It was clean. It was beautiful. It was everything this man was not.

"Very well, Mr. White. If you so desire, I can discipline Kil right now so that he may learn his lesson. Would this please you?"

There was a long pause during which Killua assumed the dirty old man was considering Illumi's offer. Bile rose in the back of Killua's throat at the prospect. It had been a long while since he'd gotten quite the kind of punishment Illumi could dish out. He wasn't exactly eager to feel it again.

"... Fine. Do it. That ought to teach him good."

To Killua's horror, he could soon hear the barely-there sound of Illumi's footsteps coming nearer. Of course he'd know exactly where Killua was. Of course he'd know. He probably also knew that Killua had been eavesdropping. Scratch the probably, there was not a shadow of a doubt that he knew exactly what Killua was doing.

In a matter of seconds, Illumi was in the room Killua had been pretending to attend to, and William White was hot on his heels. Killua attempted to look as busy as he could with the feather duster, doing the best he could to look surprised that they were looking for him. Internally, he was panicking, dreading what Illumi would do.

When Killua's eyes met Illumi's, he dropped all pretense of cleaning, "Is there somewhere I'm needed?"

"Kil," Illumi said, not even bothering to respond to the question spoken out of turn, "come with me outside for a moment."

Killua nodded numbly, doing as he was told without qualm as he'd quickly learned to do as of recent. Illumi led him through the halls of the house to the back door, William White following them all the way there. Illumi observed his surroundings with slight disdain, Killua duly noted, which he found very odd of his brother to do.

"What's wrong?" Master had asked, not really catching the emotion that Killua had the skill to notice, but he was still aware of the slight hesitation in Illumi's step.

"It's nothing," Illumi replied, turning his eyes on Killua, "you don't have a whip?"

"No. Should I?"

Illumi shrugged, "It doesn't terribly matter, but it would make punishing Kil run a little smoother. I'd advise getting one by the next time I visit."

He said all this without even looking at the man. It was for that reason that he probably didn't notice the dirty look Mr. White had given him. But Killua had seen it. Again, he found himself feeling that unreasonable anger, some form of lingering familial loyalty that he felt didn't belong. Especially considering Illumi was about to beat the shit out of him because Mr. White had lied.

 _This is_ _ **so**_ _fucking unfair_.

"Kil."

Killua snapped out of his mental rant to look up at Illumi. He immediately froze at how much considerably darker his brother's expression had become while he'd been distracted. That was one of Illumi's specialties. His aura could easily go from neutral to murderous in two seconds flat. And yet his expression still looked neutral. Killua could never place just how Illumi did it, but he somehow managed to look emotionless and bloodthirsty at the same time. It was terrifying.

"You've been a bad boy."

He'd hardly even registered those spoken words when he felt something heavy make contact with his cheek, sending him flying. Just as he was comprehending Illumi had punched him in the face, he was kicking him into the ground. Killua curled in on himself in a feeble attempt to minimize the incoming damage.

"You will behave, Kil. Do you understand?" Illumi said after a few good kicks.

He looked up, lowering his arm from his face slightly. Illumi's expression had softened. Was he finally done?

"I understand," he said softly, wincing at how broken his voice sounded. It was almost as broken as his own body felt right now.

"Do you promise?"

He gave his brother a weak, painstaking little nod, "I promise."

"Good. Now, as a reminder of our little promise…"

Watery blue eyes widened, pupils rapidly shrinking to pinpoint as Illumi's foot nudged at Killua's pinky, pushing it back. He shook, his breathing becoming erratic.

"N-n-n… n-n…!" he tried to protest, hyperventilating as he did so. He tried to pull his hand back. "No! Please don't!"

There was a loud, high cracking sound, as if his brother had stepped on a twig. The intense pain in Killua's pinky told him otherwise. He'd been through a lot of pain, a lot of torture throughout his life, but this was the first time he'd ever broken a bone. The sensation was foreign and excruciating, sending small shock waves through his hand and up his forearm every time the finger twitched. For such a tiny appendage, it was causing him a lot of torment. Even the shaking in his body was aggravating it.

He'd thought that Illumi would be done with just that, but he was sorely mistaken, because Illumi was now nudging at Killua's ring finger much in the same manner he'd done with the pinky.

Saline droplets were trailing down his cheeks, falling to the muddy ground below. He blinked the tears out of his eyes, trying to clear his blurry vision.

"Please, n-no more!" he begged his brother. "I've learned my lesson, please, please no more, I won't do it again I wo _n-nn… agghhh!!"_

_**CR-CRACK.** _

Killua's head was swimming. He couldn't think very well through all the pain in his hand. The second break hurt twice as much as the first. He vaguely registered Illumi stepping away, seemingly satisfied with his punishment. Killua curled further in on himself, holding his broken hand protectively against his chest as he whimpered and sobbed into the ground.

Illumi then turned to fully look at Mr. White, "He should know not to misbehave now. Be sure to set and splint his fingers so they heal properly."

"Excuse me?! I don't have the money to be wasting on something like that--" the man was cut off by his own pathetic whine. Curious, Killua looked up with bleary eyes to see Illumi had his master in a chokehold high above his head. He dropped the man so that he could cough and gasp for breath on his knees.

"The fuck was that for…?!" the man demanded, trying to sound threatening, but failed when his voice came out raspier than intended.

"I'll have no more of your disrespect, William White. I am not my father, and you'll do well to learn that. First, you have lied to me about Kil. I dislike liars, but I allowed that to slide in hopes that you would redeem yourself on your own. However, you decided to speak to me without so much as a shred of respect that is due to the Zoldyck family, and now you dare to claim your fat wallet can't suffer the measly cost of my brother's medical bills," Illumi had then kicked the man onto his back, placing a heavy foot on his chest, "listen, and listen well. I  _tolerate_ you because my father likes you, and I respect my father's judgement.

"Don't even think for a second that I value you. My father would sooner listen to my word than yours, and if I so wish it, the authorities will find neither hide nor hair of your body when I'm finished with you. Investigators can be paid off. Families can be dealt with. It will be as if you had never even existed. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Killua caught Mr. White nodding frantically from the corner of his eye. Illumi leaned in more heavily on his foot, dragging another choked whine out of the man.

"Good. I'll personally send you compensation for Kil's medical bill in a couple days. Be sure to get his fingers fixed. If you don't, I  _will_ know."

Mr. White was only nodding even more frantically. It gave Killua a misplaced sense of sick satisfaction to see the man with a healthy dose of fear. It almost made up for all the torment he had to go through on a daily basis… almost.

Illumi turned back around, walking over to wear Killua still laid curled and trembling on the ground, though the trembles had become much more subdued with time. To his surprise, his brother wrapped his arms around him and lifted him from the ground.

He couldn't possibly comprehend why Illumi was being so… so nice to him…

He gazed up at that ever emotionless face, trying to do the impossible and discern just what it was his older brother was thinking.

"Tell me where your room is, Kil."

Killua blinked slowly, processing the question. With his injured hand still curled against his chest, he lifted the uninjured one to point toward the stairs up ahead, "Up there."

Illumi nodded, carrying him up the stairs, and Killua told him on the way how to get to Master's room, where his little closet and potato sack bed were. His brother walked through the bedroom, kicking the door to the closet open. Killua was yet again surprised to see Illumi  _frown_.

Black eyes narrowed, "No. This will not do," he turned around with Killua still in his arms, to where Mr. White stood out of breath. No doubt he'd followed them. "You are not to have him sleep here anymore. Kil requires a real bed, at the very least. Not this old sack. Do you expect him to work in top condition with a cold?"

Mr. White flinched away from Illumi at that tone, "No, sir-- er, no. Let me show you one of the guest rooms…"

"That should do nicely."

It was clear to Killua, and surely Illumi as well, that it was taking every minute fragment of Mr. White's restraint to act so politely. It was probably doing wonders for his self-esteem. Killua mused to himself that most likely the only reason he was behaving so well was that he feared Illumi would do him even more harm than he already had. And Illumi would for sure without hesitation do that if Mr. White gave him that chance.

He guided them to a bedroom not too far from his own. Much like all the other bedrooms, it was large in size, but modestly so in comparison to the master bedroom. Killua had already been in it many times, but only ever to clean it. He'd never thought he'd get a chance to sleep in a real bedroom after he was disowned by his father. Especially not in just a month's time after he'd become a slave.

Illumi observed the room with a critical eye before finally deeming it good enough and setting Killua gently on the bed.

"This will suffice," he informed Mr. White, then more sternly he said, "this will be his room from now on. You will allow him to keep those blankets as his own. They are not to be removed. Everything in this room will stay how it is. You are also to allow Kil to shower once a day. That stench you've allowed him to accumulate is unacceptable."

"Fine," Mr. White replied gruffly, finally starting to regain that haughty air of his, "but I refuse to allow him to use hot water. It's a waste on  _slaves_ ," he spat.

"I don't care. Just see that he is bathing regularly and sleeping as he should. Now, on to the matter of his diet--"

"Is this really necessary?"

"Are you trying to test my patience?"

The man flinched away, muttering out a quick, "No, sir."

"Good. See that he gets all his food groups. He's malnourished. A healthy slave is better than a sick, unhealthy one. He'll perform better that way."

"Yes… sir…"

Illumi then went back to Killua one last time. The boy had a question burning the tip of his tongue that he was just dying to ask, and now that Illumi was looking at him once more, he couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked it quietly enough that he hoped Mr. White wouldn't hear.

Illumi blinked, tilting his head slightly, "You are of value to me. Father may not have seen your worth, but I do."

That was as close to an ' _I love you'_  as Illumi would ever get. Although, if Illumi spoke the truth, there was still one more question…

"You knew he was lying… then why…?"

"You didn't tell me he was lying. I had to punish you somehow."

Killua had to remind himself that even though Illumi was being somewhat nice to him, his morals were still his own, and messed up as fuck. This was a brilliant display of aforementioned messed up morals. Nevertheless, Killua made a mental note to be a lot more forthcoming to Illumi with the goings on in the future, in hopes that there would be no repeat of today's punishment.

It seemed Illumi was done with their conversation, as he was now walking away, William White following closely behind.

"I'll see you next time, Kil."

The door closed. Killua was left to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I bet no one saw that one coming (not even Killua). Yeahhh, Illumi's an ass, but he does care about Killua in his own weird way.
> 
> Just like everything I write, this is entirely un-beta'd, so if you catch any typos, please be sure to let me know so I can fix that.
> 
> Love it? Hate it? Please review!


	3. If You Think It's too Good to be True, You're Probably Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry that this took me three days to finish (it really shouldn't have). My mother dragged me out of the house for what she deemed "necessary socialization," and because it's apparently healthy for me to go outside... yeahhh, anyway.
> 
> I also apologize if this bit seems kind of rushed. There were some crucial points I wanted to get out of the way, and this is the bridge into the build up to what's going to be the next part in the series.
> 
> So this is super time-lapsed. Weh.
> 
> I'm thinking a couple more chapters or so for this one, and then we can finally move on to the next part.

If he'd thought at any point that things could get better by any degree, he must have been delusional when he was thinking such.

He didn't recall passing out on the bed, but was startled awake when his new bedroom door was thrown open.

"You dirty little worm," Mr. White spat, his voice vicious. He was stomping over to Killua's bedside with long, fast paces.

Killua forced himself not to hide under the covers like he so desperately was wanting to, "I-I'm sorry…?"

He cursed himself when his tone unconsciously rose in pitch, making his statement sound as if it was a question. His master's eyes narrowed at him.

He grabbed a fistful of Killua's shirt, jerking him upward, "How  _dare_ you?!"

Killua flinched, looking away, "I'm not sure what I did to displease you, sir. I'm sorry."

"Save your apologies," he snapped as he threw Killua to the floor, "I'm not your pansy ass brother. You'll get no pity treatment out of  _me_."

He could have scoffed at the incredulity of the very idea that his eldest brother would ever do anything out of pity. It was so unbelievable that it was almost funny. Besides that...

"My brother… is no pansy," Killua growled.

Mr. White looked shocked. He looked almost as shocked as Killua himself felt. It had just slipped out. He'd meant to only think those words, but somehow his mouth was way ahead of him.

"You…" he said incredulously, pointing an accusing meaty finger at Killua, "you little rat! You set this up, didn't you?!"

"I didn't!" Killua protested. He refrained from bringing up that he'd gotten the short end of the stick, what with his two now broken fingers, swollen cheek and bruised back and all. Somehow, he was pretty sure the unreasonable bastard would take that as backsass.

"Like hell you didn't, fucking rat. That useless brother of yours went too easy on you."

Killua scooted back on the floor until his back hit the wall. His bottom lip quivered as he stared up at Mr. White, "Wh-what?!"

"Yeah, you heard me. I don't think you've learned your lesson yet. Maybe I should give you another one…"

"N-no, honest! I've learned… I've learned!" Killua shook his head fervently, as he knew by now what teaching a lesson implied when spoken by Mr. White. He pulled his legs to his chest and crossed his arms in front of himself protectively. He was doing the best he was able to make himself look small and insignificant. "You don't need to do t-that…! I really have learned my lesson. Honest. Honest, I did."

No matter how much Killua protested, Mr. White wouldn't stop.

He went limp as he was grabbed, bent and turned until his face was pressed into wall and his rump in the air. Despite himself, he was compliant to Mr. White's treatment, just as he'd been many times before. His struggles and temperament had long since mellowed out. The only thing that never seemed to mellow out was the excruciating pain every time.

Oh, how excruciating it was. Words could not describe it. This, much like breaking his bones, was a foreign pain that he couldn't seem to acclimate himself to. There was something about it that made it impossible for him to block it out.

Maybe it was the way the pain within him throbbed, inconsistent in its ever-changing push and pull. Maybe it was the way the act tore down at his pride, now non-existent. Not even his self-esteem existed anymore.

There was no preparation. Killua had learned a thing or two about sex in the past. He even knew a little about homosexual intercourse. Enough at least to know that this was not the way to have enjoyable sex.

Well. Rather, it wasn't the way for  _him_ to have enjoyable sex.

But then… this wasn't sex, was it…?

It was  _rape_.

Plain and simple.

And much like he did what felt like a hundred times already, but in actuality was closer to twenty, he closed his eyes and tried to go to his happy place. He didn't have a happy place. The closest thing he had to that was some morbid, twisted fantasy of gutting his master alive, and shoving those guts down his damn greedy throat as he gurgled and the life slowly left his eyes. A fantasy that would never come true. He could dream.

It was quick, but it didn't feel that way. As wave and wave of renewed burning, throbbing pain rolled over him with every thrust, he learned to cling to that pain. He held it close to himself, like a lifeline. It fueled the fire of the growing hatred within him.

He clung to the pain until his knees were wobbling and gave out, until he was on his hands and knees. He clung to the pain until his master's body was spent and his seed spewed.

Until finally,  _finally_ he left.

And Killua was alone. His body weak and trembling as a pink mixture of semen and blood dripped down his thigh to the floor. A mess he'd have to clean up soon, lest he be reminded of the activity that broke him a little more every time, that happened all too often for a boy so young.

He wanted to cry, now more than ever. He wanted the release that tears could bring him. He wanted the foggy daze it could leave him in afterward.

No tears came.

Killua crawled weakly to his bed, hoisting himself up with his one good hand so that he could stand on trembling legs for the few seconds it would take to get into the bed. As he laid down, he stared up at the ceiling with blank eyes, making no sound except his soft breathing.

He didn't cry, rather he couldn't. His eyes were oddly dry, despite having cried so much when Illumi broke his fingers. They were drier than they'd been in a long time, as if after the countless tears he'd shed in the past month he'd depleted himself of all the tears his body had in reserve.

He wasn't in a daze. He had a sharp clarity of the recent events and where he was, and yet he was numb, devoid of any emotion. He couldn't pinpoint when the change had happened. When the anger he'd felt had dissipated.

It was almost as if he had become someone else, like it hadn't happened to him. Like he was just an onlooker to the gruesome events.

He felt empty.

* * *

In the morning, he was awakened by Master throwing open the door and ordering Killua to go take that shower Illumi had forced hand in allowing Killua the luxury of taking once a day. He was given strict orders that even though he was now allowed to shower daily, he was not to use the main bathroom (for that was Mr. White's private bathroom).

Killua really didn't care one way or another. It was just nice to get clean.

The icy temperature wasn't the most pleasant, but the shock of it chased away any lingering fogginess in his mind left behind by sleep. He could at least appreciate the smooth sensation of running water rolling down his back. Though it wasn't warm, it was still soothing.

Having dried off after shutting off the water, he found a maid opening the door to hand him a brand new set of clothes. He soon found out that the reason Mr. White had demanded he shower and had gone through the trouble of buying him new clothes was that Mr. White was making good on his promise to take Killua to a doctor.

It would seem that even though Mr. White didn't like treating Killua well, he still wanted to give off the impression that he did.

Fancy that. What a cruel master Killua had.

* * *

 

Leorio was an honest man.

He was fairly tall, though just a tad shorter than Master, and his chin had a five o'clock shadow that Killua suspected was a result of being so consumed by work that he never found the time to maintain himself. Despite his unkempt face and hair, his clothes were clean and crisp, and his demeanor was kind. He smiled at Killua, a smile that seemed to be from the bottom of his heart and reached soft eyes from behind his glasses.

As he entered the small emergency room, the man was looking over a form on his clipboard before he took off his glasses, slipping them into his pocket. He looked to Killua, then to Mr. White, "Okay, so you're seeing me about your son here, correct?"

"That is correct," he replied, "my son, Killua, seems to have fallen down some stairs. I had thought nothing of it at the time, but I just want to get him checked up to be on the safe side. He was complaining about some pain in his fingers the other day."

A simple lie, down to the claim of Killua being his son. Mr. White had discussed the content of the lie on the car ride to the emergency room. By discussed, he rather meant that Mr. White had given him a stern talking to during which at one point he'd told Killua he'd better not dare tell the doctor the truth of the matter. It twisted Killua's stomach into aching knots to be called a relative to him. Alas, he knew better than to say something about it. He kept his mouth shut and eyes downcast.

Leorio was looking at Killua with a calculating stare, one that spoke volumes of just how intelligent he truly was. He may appear as a slacker or an idiot to the regular eye, but it wasn't easy to become a doctor in his generation. He was gullible. He was air-headed. However, he was  _not_ stupid _._

There was a swollen bruise on the boy's cheek, a deep angry purple already, but it would surely heal on its own, given time. The doctor's eyes then trailed down to the two last fingers on the boy's left hand, red and swollen.

He approached the boy cautiously, unsure of how he'd react, and asking permission to see his hand before he actually touched it. Only after receiving a shy nod from Killua did he take hold of the tiny hand.

"Fell down some stairs, you say…?" Leorio asked suspiciously as he poked and prodded Killua's broken fingers. "Does this hurt at all?" he asked Killua, more out of genuine concern about the boy's peculiar silence rather than curiosity toward his answer.

"A little," Killua murmured softly, wincing when Leorio slightly bent one of the fingers, testing whether it was functioning properly.

Leorio's brow furrowed. The kid's fingers were swollen to twice their original size. There was no way this was hurting him only 'a little'. He scowled, speaking up to Mr. White, "I'm almost entirely certain these are broken. 'Fell down some stairs' my ass. This damage is much too concentrated to have been an accident."

Mr. White's eyes narrowed in a challenging glare, "Excuse me? Dr. Paladiknight, are you accusing me of something? I pay you to treat injuries, not to question the authority of my words. Need I remind you I  _own_ you? Without me, you'd have no job. You can treat the boy, or I can most certainly find someone else who will."

"Oh no, I'll treat him alright," Leorio grumbled, biting back what he  _really_ wanted to say, "I just need to do a quick x-ray to confirm the break first."

"There shouldn't be any need for that. You already know it's broken," the man snapped, "an x-ray is a waste of time and money."

"Sir, with all due respect, you are not the one with a certificate licensing you to be a doctor. I think I know what I'm talking about," Leorio snapped,  _and of fucking course it was broken, it didn't take a genius to figure that out,_  "even if I know his fingers are broken, I am not able to see how bad the break is, or for instance how far up the hand the break may have traveled. An x-ray is absolutely necessary."

After a little more arguing with the man, Leorio eventually won out with his superior wit and medical knowledge (no surprise there), and was allowed to escort Killua to the x-ray room. To Mr. White's chagrin, a nurse ordered him to remain in the hallway, as his presence could disturb the x-ray. When he'd been reluctant to do so, the warning that guards would remove him from the premise should he not comply made him suddenly complacent.

With the door safely shut, Mr. White would no longer be in earshot of what the doctor wanted to be for Killua's ears alone.

Killua looked around curiously, looking up at the doctor in question, "How does an x-ray work, anyway?"

Leorio waved off the question, "Never mind that right now. I have something to ask you. It's very important that you answer me honestly, alright?"

Leorio didn't like the way the boy remained so quiet, neither indicating a positive nor negative response. Nonetheless he pressed onward.

"How did your fingers get broken, Killua?"

"I fell down some stairs," Killua repeated the lie. It tasted putrid on his tongue and twisted his face into a sour expression he was unable to conceal in time.

The doctor sighed, "Listen kid, I'm a doctor. The medical field is my life; I've been trained for years to be able to recognize and treat all kinds of injuries and ailments. Now you and I both know you didn't fall down any stairs. Isn't that right?"

Killua fidgeted uncomfortably, clenching his fingers in his dress shirt and staring dejectedly at the floor. He still didn't say anything, but that was confirmation enough to Leorio. The doctor sighed again, his face scrunching up as if this ordeal was physically painful for him.

He mussed his hair, glancing down at Killua with a critical gaze, "At least tell me this, kid. Was Mr. White the one who broke your fingers?"

The boy couldn't help but notice that Leorio had gone out of his way not to use the word 'father'. Whether that meant he knew they weren't related or not, he didn't know. He did appreciate the effort regardless.

"No, it wasn't," he answered truthfully.

Leorio seemed like such a nice guy. He didn't want to withhold the truth from him. He wanted so terribly much to just come clean and tell him literally everything from beginning to end. But he feared the consequences.

Mr. White's words of how he 'owned' Leorio flashed too clearly in Killua's mind. The memory of his family haunted him. There was too much that could go wrong if he told the truth to this honest man now. He couldn't drag Leorio down with him. It would be cruel.

Leorio didn't seem completely convinced, but he seemed to also be able to tell that Killua was being truthful this time. For the third time, he released a heavy sigh, "Fine, I believe you, kid. But I've got my eye on you, and I've got my eye on that dirty bastard too."

Killua couldn't stand how earnest Leorio's eyes were. He had to look away. He bit at his lip, "You really should stay out of places your nose doesn't belong… you'll get yourself into trouble you can't handle…"

"Pfft! I can handle myself. Anyway, let's get that x-ray out of the way before Mr. White gets his panties into any more of a wad than he already has."

Killua coughed and spluttered at that last snide remark, eyes widening. He was going to ask what that was supposed to have meant when he noticed the man was already walking away. He came back to put some weird, heavy jacket on him, positioning Killua's hand and telling him to keep it that way until he told him to move. He then went into a side room with a bunch of controls and things that flashed and beeped.

After a white flash of light, Killua heard Leorio tell him he could move.

* * *

A short while later, Leorio stood alone in the x-ray room, looking at the photos of Killua's hand. His eyes narrowed, nose scrunching as he scowled at the photos.

"As I thought," he muttered to himself angrily, "these breaks are too concentrated. This was done on purpose."

He picked up the photos, shoving them into a manilla folder, cursing under his breath as he did so.  _Damn it all, this is troublesome._

All that was left to do was set and splint the boy's fingers. Then only god knew what was going to happen to Killua when he went home. Leorio didn't want to send him home… but he didn't have quite enough evidence to prove it was abuse. Especially when the boy was being so stubbornly quiet about it, and Mr. White had enough hush money to silence any of Leorio's accusations.

_Damn it. Damn it._ _**Damn it!** _

* * *

After Killua's fingers were put into a splint, he and Mr. White had been sent on their merry way home. The aura around his master immediately changed the moment they were out of sight from prying eyes.

"You little rat," the man snapped, setting eyes on Killua from his spot in the driver's seat, "you didn't tell him anything, did you?"

Killua shook his head, turning away to stare out the window, watching the scenery fly by. He didn't get to see what it was like outside very much. Not even when he'd been part of the Zoldyck family.

"Better not have," Mr. White grumbled, "damn sniveling little worm. You should learn to be seen, not heard."

Killlua resisted the urge to retort that he already did a pretty good job of that on his own, not that Mr. White took the time to notice. All his views about Killua were distorted, so there'd be no point in reasoning with him.

Once they arrived home, Killua was sent straight to work. Leorio had been perfectly clear when he told them not to have Killua doing anything that would put stress on his left hand, but Mr. White obviously didn't give a damn about that.

Killua still tried his best to do his work with limited use of his left hand. For all his mental rambling of how he didn't care whether he died or not, he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of being permanently crippled. Even if it only was in his hand.

* * *

Nothing very notable happened during the following month.

Killua made the unfortunate blunder of breaking a plate one morning. Oddly enough, he only got yelled at for the mistake.  Odd because this would have normally earned him a backhand to the face.

Master seemed preoccupied, only taking a minute or two to yell at Killua before wandering off to do something else.  He didn't even bother commenting on the flour all over the floor he'd just walked through.  Definitely strange. 

* * *

Another morning, Master informed Killua that he needed him to go out to carry out an errand. Not alone, of course. A maid was sent to oversee him and make sure he didn't misbehave or make a run for it.

He was to deliver some letters to the post office and pick up a cake from the bakery for a get together Mr. White was having soon.

On the way, he met a blonde boy who stuck out like a sore thumb, mainly due to the fact that he was also hurrying to deliver something at the post office and collided right into Killua out of nowhere. He was apologizing profusely as he moved to grab his parcel and help Killua stand.

"I'm terribly sorry about that; I was in a hurry, you see, to deliver a package to a friend at university," he'd been saying.

Killua blinked owlishly, "Huh?"

"Oh, my bad," the boy chuckled, "my name's Kurapika, by the way. Sorry again about knocking you over," and since his package was in his right hand, he held out his left hand expectantly.

Killua stared at the hand for a moment, but after some hesitance, decided there'd be no harm in shaking it, "I'm Killua. It's no trouble."

Kurapika's eyes snapped downward, a perplexed look on his face. It was a second later that Killua realized that Kurapika was staring at Killua's broken fingers. He'd shook the blond's hand with his broken one without thinking.

Nervously, he pulled the hand away and tucked it away behind his back, "That's nothing."

"I see…" the boy replied, then taking notice of his wristwatch, "oh, look at the time. I'm going to be late; gotta go. Bye!"

Killua, still highly confused, merely waved back, "... Bye?"

* * *

One night after all their work was finished, a maid happened to sneak Killua a real treat-- a chocolate bar. The rich, sweet flavor of it was heavenly, though he only took a small nibble of the chocolate. He knew he may never get such a treat like that again in his life, so he vowed to hold on to the rest of it for as long as possible.

Stowing it away under his pillow seemed like a good idea. Maybe he'd take a nibble or two if he had a really bad day.

* * *

The day before they were to get another visit from the family in a month's time from the last, Mr. White called Killua away from his daily chores.

Once he had him alone, he gave Killua a severe lashing from his brand new whip he'd gotten just the day before. There was no rhyme or reason as to why. As far as the young boy could remember, he'd done nothing wrong that day.

When Mr. White felt it had gone on long enough and Killua finally lay collapsed and bleeding on the floor, Mr. White informed him that had been a warning to be on his best behavior upon the following day.

* * *

Just as he'd promised, it was again Illumi who came to visit. Immediately upon entering the house, he just  _knew_.

Killua couldn't place how he'd done so any better than Mr. White himself could.

He'd taken in the scent of the air, and then he was turning on Mr. White with a violent glimmer in his eye, "You," he said to the man.

"Me?!" he had the audacity to look offended.

"You would punish my brother without reason? How about I give you a taste of your own medicine?"

"You'll  _what_?" the man demanded incredulously, but somehow Illumi had already found Mr. White's shiny new whip in hand and was slowly closing in.

Killua watched with rapt fascination as Illumi proceeded to give the man what he called a 'taste of his own medicine', and he had to admit at least to himself that it was morbidly satisfying.

And once the man was nothing but a sniveling, pathetic mess on the floor, Illumi took Killua by the hand and announced that he'd be stealing him away. Well, for the day anyway. He couldn't exactly take him forever, even if a large part of Killua was starting to wish he would.

* * *

His time with Illumi was like a dream, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Some part of him would later become convinced that it really had been a dream, upon looking back on the experience.

Never before had Illumi done so much to go out of his way and be so nice to Killua. He'd of course never been the most hateful or mean, but nor had he made a conscious effort to make Killua happy.

Perhaps that was a large reason why he was so confused now.

He cautiously eyed the proffered ice cream cone in Illumi's hand, so thoroughly convinced it was a trick. Maybe he'd done something with it. Maybe it was poisoned.

"Do I need to lick it or something before you'll eat it? Because I will if that's what it takes," Illumi said, about to lick the ice cream, and in that fleeting moment Killua realized it wasn't a trick and dove for the treat to rip it out of his brother's hands and away from his tongue before he could get his germs on it.

"No, I want it, it's mine," Killua declared, hoarding it away and pouting at Illumi before taking a lick of the ice cream. It was chocolate. He wasn't sure how his brother found out he liked chocolate so much, but then again it could have just as well been a lucky guess.

Illumi shrugged, nonplussed by Killua's rudeness, "I had to do something to get you to take it. Ice cream's more expensive this time of year…"

Killua rolled his eyes, "Oh please, like money's a problem for  _you_."

It was common knowledge that the Zoldyck family was paid handsomely for their… talents. Illumi was no exception.

"It's no problem to me to spend money on you, but I'd hate for you not to appreciate my efforts," Illumi commented.

He stared intensely up at his brother, trying to discern what he was thinking. He could keep at it for hours and still be no closer to figuring it out than when he began, but still he tried. Whether Illumi truly would be bothered by dejection from Killua, he'd never know. Killua didn't understand the motives behind anything his oldest brother ever did. Maybe, on some bizarre level that normal people didn't even have, Illumi cared about Killua. Just maybe.

It took a ruffled, "What?" from Illumi to get Killua to realize he'd been blankly staring at his brother for the past few minutes, and consequently had let his ice cream cone start to melt. After panicking and shouting momentarily, he got the bright idea to just stuff the whole thing in his mouth in one go.

Illumi made sort of quick sighing sound through his nose that might actually have served as a laugh. A minute later, Killua was rolling around on the ground with a brain freeze, and Illumi merely watched in silent amusement.

Killua decided after Illumi explained what had happened that he really hated brain freezes.

Illumi took Killua to a public washroom to wash up a bit, since his face and hands were sticky from the melted ice cream, and then he brought Killua to a park to play for a while. Killua had only ever been to a park once before, and that was for about five seconds before he left because he was actually supposed to be doing a job.

Really, this was more like his first time at a park. He'd told himself that the kids looked really stupid playing around on the equipment, and that there was no way he would derive the same enjoyment, but despite all that he still ended up having a lot of fun. Illumi had better not tell anyone.

He even got Illumi to push him on the swing at one point. It was the most fun he'd had in a long time, possibly even his life. Killua didn't realize just how much he'd been missing out on as he was growing up. He never had the chance to be a kid.

So reasonably, as it came around time for Illumi to take him back to Mr. White, Killua was abruptly very sober about the matter. He was dreading being locked back up in that house to work until he was exhausted for the following month, especially after such a delicious taste of freedom.

"Couldn't you just take me away?" Killua surprised himself by asking Illumi while they were walking back to the mansion. He gave his brother a pleading look, "If it was you, you'd be able to do it. Please don't make me go back there."

Illumi stared at Killua for a very long time. Quietly, he placed a hand on Killua's head as he brought their walking to a stop, "I know you don't like it there, Kil, but this is all I can do for now. You're going to have to bear with it."

"But he scares me," the boy shook his head, "h-he hurts me… he… he does those things..."

"I know, Kil. I know that he does bad things, but I know you too. I know that you're strong, and that you can get through this. I can't help you right now, because if I do, Mom and Dad will punish me too, and that wouldn't help either of us, would it?"

Killua reluctantly shook his head. True, if Illumi got punished, that would land Killua right back where he'd started, only then Illumi would be even less likely to help him. He really couldn't argue with that logic.

"There, you see? So just bear with it for now. You're strong. You can make it through this, Kil."

"But I  _can't_ ," he replied weakly. Illumi did know Killua well, but he didn't know Killua better than he knew himself. He didn't know how much he could take, just how much he'd already taken. He didn't know how close Killua was already coming to breaking. The boy didn't know how much longer he could go on like he'd been doing.

Maybe a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few years… Who knew? He was a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate, except that the only person he'd end up hurting in the end was most likely himself alone.

"I'm sorry."

Those were the last words Illumi spoke to Killua before dropping him off with Mr. White. Whether those words were sincere or not, only Illumi knew.

* * *

The following month was the best Mr. White had ever treated Killua. There was no raping. He never raised a hand against the boy, not even once.

For that matter, he hardly made Killua do any work, if at all.

It was disturbing how nicely he was being treated.

All because of his brother.

Perhaps Illumi had given him a stern talking to when Killua wasn't paying attention, or maybe the whipping Illumi had done to the man had made him fearful enough that he was doing it on his own.

Either way, Killua's opinion of Illumi was rapidly improving, and he couldn't decide how he felt about that. He was becoming too dependant on Illumi. Killua started wanting to  _trust_ him. He wanted to confide in him. He  _wanted_ to depend on him.

Depending on a psychopath was a dangerous game. The worst part was he knew it wasn't bound to last.

Right now, he wasn't so sure he cared. This was the best month of his life.

Little did he know...

* * *

"Where's that damn cheeky cat-eyed son of yours with the girly hair?"

He overheard this conversation by chance; he'd most certainly not been eavesdropping from the next room… Okay, well maybe a little.

The next month's visit, Killua was soon to discover, was not from his brother. Instead, Silva had come in his place.

"Do you mean Illumi? My wife sent him on a mission out of the country. He was supposed to be back in time to visit in my place as usual today, but unexpected complications led to an extended stay. He may not be back until the end of this year at this rate."

"You don't say…?"

Mr. White sounded far too pleased with this revelation…

A cold dread along with a violent shiver he could not suppress ran down his spine.

* * *

Following the most recent visit from the family, Mr. White was quick to revert to his old ways without fear. After all, an entire year without so much as hearing from Illumi was plenty of time to get away with whatever he wanted.

So that was exactly what he did.

Killua had thought he may be in Hell a few times before, but every time he thought he'd finally been dealt Fate's worst, he just had to be proven wrong.

He felt like things were getting gradually worse and worse every day.

There were some days he couldn't even walk two feet away from his bed before he collapsed to the floor, and there were others where Mr. White would snap at him not to lay down on the job and he'd be forced to limp everywhere he went to get his chores done. The only thing waiting for him the next day was to do it all over.

And he was growing tired, so very tired.

* * *

It was eight months later in the middle of the night that Killua got a visit from a man he'd never met before. The guy was odd, with bright red hair, and he vaguely resembled a clown. Killua found him in his bedroom, sitting on the corpse of a maid with his legs crossed. He held the decapitated head of the maid, tossing it from one hand to the other as if it were some macabre basketball.

"Well hello there, little rabbit."

Killua descended from a family of assassins, so death and corpses were no new occurrence to him. This man's demeanor, however, was an anomaly. His very presence alone baffled Killua.

"Who are you?" he demanded this man that would dare intrude in his bedroom.

"Who am I?" the man asked with a light chuckle. "Oh, little rabbit, I am but a nameless jester. You may call me Hisoka, if that suits your fancy."

Killua frowned, maintaining his cautious distance, "Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

Hisoka laughed as he pet the long, glossy hair of the head in his hands, "You ask what I want from you? Why, nothing. Rather, a better question would be, what can I do for you?"

"I don't know what you mean. What could you possibly do for me?" he couldn't figure this man out. What was his game? What was he after?

The man dropped the head to the floor as he made a mock expression of shock, complete with a fake little gasp, "You mean to tell me you don't know? Anything you want. I could give you anything. Do anything that you so desire. All you have to do… is ask."

Killua shuddered at the sight of that vicious grin, and yet he was considering the offer. It was tempting. It was scary how tempting it was. There had to be a catch.

"Oh, that's right, you're a slave here, aren't you?"

"Anything I want…?"

"What do you say? I could take you away from here…"

_Anything I want…_

"I could kill that master of yours."

_Anything I want…_

He didn't even realize Hisoka had moved to stand beside him. He leaned in so close to Killua until his lips touched Killua's ear… and then he whispered… "I lied."

He then hopped back, and before Killua knew it, was in the open windowsill.  Cheerily, he said, "Well, bye-bye, little rabbit! I have mischief to cause."

He'd thought that he'd already hit rock bottom...  He'd thought that there was nothing that could possibly bring him further down than he already had been...

Somehow.   _Somehow_ , that clown had managed to worm his way into his mind so easily, and had implanted the idea of hope in his mind in a matter of seconds.  He'd done so effortlessly, and then just as quickly had taken that hope away, like blowing out the tiny flame of a candle.

Killua did the only thing he could think to do.  He screamed.

Just fell to his knees and screamed until his throat was raw, and even that didn't hurt as much as what the clown had just done to him.

He wanted out now more than ever, but who would ever help him?  He had no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka is also a major asshole. That might be it for his douchery, or he may come back to haunt poor Killua another time or two. Or maybe he'll actually help Killua at some point.   
> Who knows? Not me.
> 
> I just want to say it's kind of hard to narrate Illumi. He's such a weird person. In theory, I always tell myself he's simple, but then I go to write him and constantly doubt myself.  
> Narrating his kind of affection is always a challenge.
> 
> As usual, please feel free to let me know if you catch any mistakes or something or another (it's really no trouble to come back through and fix things). Love it, hate it? Please leave a review!
> 
> Well, until next time!


End file.
